a love letter to canva pro

picnik walked so canva pro could run. and no this is not sponsored.

“I don’t know why anyone does drugs," I say as the clock hits 1:43 am and I realize I’m on hour seven of crafting things on Canva Pro.

I think the pipeline from Picnik child to Canva adult should be studied. Scratch that, it’s very simple. I love creating, but I am sadly not one of those people who can create things from nothing. I need a starting point or to revamp something that already exists. I used to feel shame about not being able to paint from my mind or draw something from memory but as I’ve grown up I realized who gives a shit. truly. who gives a shit.

a peek into my recent designs

I was the designated person who made birthday collages or those spot-yourself bingo grids using Picnik or Picmonkey. I should have guessed that ten years later, I would be doing the exact same thing, except this time I’m crafting up dinner party invites or building an entire mood board for a house that doesn't exist yet. Canva is my love language. I sometimes get a lot of slack for gift-giving being my top love language; people think it means I’m shallow and materialistic, but to me, making a highly specific colour-coordinated mood board for a trip they have upcoming is my way of showing you I care.

I think my most over-the-top Canva project to date was the interior design mood board I made for a beach house my parents hadn’t even decided on getting yet. I mean…in the end, they did end up buying the property…and my ideas did in fact end up being how we styled the rooms. Dare I say Canva is also a manifestation tool? I don’t think that’s far off. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the most-used platform for New Year’s vision boards.

Canva Pro feels like an adult colouring book. I think about how my past love of Tumblr is why I’m on Substack, I have to thank those silly little graphics on Picnik for leading me to Canva.

as you can see 12-year-old me did not pay for the premium feature

I know it might seem silly to write an entire post about a design website, but I truly believe that this no-stakes type of platform is what has allowed me to maintain my creativity as an adult. So much of my time is spent putting things off because of my own self-inflicted fear. Fear of not being perfect, of not living up to my expectations.

The urge to make everything aesthetic has followed me through every phase of my life. I used to spend hours curating the perfect Tumblr theme, and now I’m out here designing fake restaurant menus for dinner parties. I once saw a video where someone said something along the lines of, “Don’t wait for it to be perfect—just put it out there.” It was one of those things that in the moment I skipped right past but now has stuck with me.

There is a place in New York called Happy Medium, their ethos is all about pursuing creativity no matter your skill set, no pressure. I love that mindset. Of course, I also love getting my hands dirty and have many other creative hyper fixations (for another sidenote) but there is something so liberating about how endless Canva feels. Nothing is permanent unless I press print.

Oh, and the graveyard of abandoned Canva projects - I have at least five unfinished “rebrands” of my personal aesthetic just sitting in my Canva folder, collecting digital dust. What am I rebranding from? Couldn’t tell you. But at some point, I was absolutely convinced that I needed a whole new vibe for every platform that was associated with my name.

There’s something so funny about the cycle of creating an entire mood board for the person you think you’re about to become. A different version of me exists in each unfinished project. One was my “clean girl” phase, where everything was beige and minimal, very Linen Pants at a Farmers’ Market. Another was my 1970s rockstar girlfriend rebrand, where I used nothing but TAN nimbus font and a deep burgundy colour palette as if I was suddenly the newest member of Fleetwood Mac.

And yet, here I am—same me, no official rebrand, just an ever-growing collection of fonts and colour swatches. Maybe one day, I’ll commit to one. Or maybe the real aesthetic was the Canva chaos we made along the way. (I hope y’all giggled at this cause I did)

Maybe I’ll outgrow this phase, but honestly? I hope not. There’s something beautiful about making things just for the sake of making them. And if I ever need a new hobby, I can always start designing vacation itineraries for trips I can’t afford yet :)